The line didn’t break.

  It gave.

  Not all at once. Not cleanly. It sagged inward where magic faltered and surged outward where pressure overcorrected. Shields locked late. Ice formed thinner. Fire burned wider than intended, chewing air instead of bodies.

  Lysara felt the shift before she saw it.

  The wounded stopped coming in straight lines.

  They staggered. Fell sideways. Crawled.

  She moved again, hands already out, catching a man by the shoulder before he could pitch face-first into the churned ground. His eyes were glassy, unfocused.

  “Stay with me.”

  He didn’t.

  She sealed what she could anyway and dragged him back by his collar until another pair of hands took over. She didn’t look to see if they carried him far enough.

  There wasn’t time.

  A shockwave rolled through the clearing, strong enough to knock her off balance. She hit the ground hard, breath tearing out of her lungs as ice detonated somewhere too close. Shards skittered across armor. A shield shattered outright, the sound sharp and final.

  Someone screamed.

  Then the sound cut off.

  The wolves pressed harder.

  Not charging. Filling space. Bodies replacing bodies, forcing the line to stretch thinner each time it reformed. Magic snapped and recoiled, backlash flashing bright enough to blind.

  Lysara crawled, then rose, then moved again—always backward now, always making space.

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  Another body hit the ground near her feet.

  Too much blood. No response.

  She knelt anyway.

  Two heartbeats. Nothing.

  She closed his eyes with her thumb and stood, already turning away.

  That was new.

  She caught sight of Kayden through the smoke and glare, dragging someone upright and shoving them into place before a wolf slammed into the gap. He went down hard with it, rolled, came back up swinging.

  Tessa’s lightning cracked again—ragged this time, branching wider than before. She staggered when the spell ended, bracing herself on a fallen tree before forcing another cast through.

  Xyrion was still standing.

  He shouldn’t have been.

  Ice flared around him in compressed sheets, reforming faster than it shattered, forcing the press back through sheer containment. His voice cut through the noise—not loud, but absolute, snapping the line back into shape where it could still hold.

  For now.

  Lysara’s satchel was empty.

  Her hands shook when she noticed.

  No more potions. Only bindings. Only pressure and sealing and triage without promise.

  She made the choice without stopping to name it.

  She stopped kneeling.

  She stayed on her feet, moving through the rear edge, guiding the wounded instead of treating them. Pushing them back. Redirecting. Clearing paths where the ground still held.

  The fight surged again.

  This time, the ground gave way.

  A cluster of bodies went down together—wolves and humans tangled, sliding into a shallow depression already slick with blood. The line buckled around it, shields clashing as everyone scrambled to re-anchor.

  Lysara skidded to a stop just short of it, boots slipping.

  Too deep.

  Too fouled.

  She backed away fast, breath sharp in her chest.

  That was when she heard it.

  Not the fight.

  Water.

  Faint, but unmistakable beneath the noise—steady, moving, cutting through stone.

  Her head snapped up.

  She scanned the tree line, ignoring the clash behind her, filtering for slope and sound instead of bodies and spells. The ground dipped away to the right, darker there, the air cooler.

  The river was close.

  Close enough.

  Another wolf burst through the thinning rear line. Lysara didn’t hesitate. Her dagger cleared her hip in one smooth motion, blade flashing once before she stepped aside and let the body fall past her.

  She didn’t look back at it.

  Someone shouted her name.

  She didn’t answer.

  Not because she couldn’t hear—but because if she did, she would stop.

  And if she stopped, she would stay.

  Lysara moved.

  Not running. Threading—slipping through brush where the ground still held, where magic hadn’t scorched the soil glassy. Her breath steadied as the noise behind her dulled, replaced by the rush of water growing louder with every step.

  The fight raged on behind her.

  Ahead, the forest opened.

  Cold air brushed her face.

  Stone underfoot.

  And the river cut through the trees, clear and fast, waiting.